Just a story about a man
by Mrs.Quinn-Fuentes
Summary: Something I'd been dabbling at.


I couldn't ever imagine the pain ever fading. Two years have passed and I still keep her things untouched where she last had them. Her coat still hangs off the end of the bed and her mascara is still laying on the floor where she'd dropped it on her rush for work that last day.

Now I can't lie and say I haven't tried to numb the pain with sex, because I did. She'd been dead for one month when I first went out and found someone. I didn't even know her name, I can't even remember what she looked like. We went to her house, because I couldn't stand the thought of bringing another woman into our house. That all lasted for eight months; I lost count of how many women there were, they're all a blur. But the pain never left, all that resulted in was adding guilt to the mixture because none of those girls were her.

It's hard to describe how it feels when the love of your life dies. It's almost like they take a big part of you with them.

I never in a million years could have imagined having my wife die just three years after being married; I don't think it's fair in the slightest. We made vows to be by each others side until we're old and grey, but I'm the only one who will be old and grey and I'll be there alone. She won't be there by my side...

My family keep trying to tell me it will get better and I'll meet someone else soon enough. They're lying; I don't ever _want_ to meet someone new. She was my soulmate, nobody will ever live up to how she made me feel. And I'm not interested in having anyone even try.

I spend my days working from 7am to 8pm as a chef and when I'm home I spend my time drinking until I can't remember my own name. I'm not happy about how I live my life, I know it's not healthy and I know I should try to move on. But when I'm not busy either working or drinking, I'll notice the little things and it'll break my heart all over again. Like the red stain on the otherwise perfect white leather sofa; on the night I proposed we came back home and opened a bottle of red wine. She had one too many glasses and while staring at the ring on her left hand, the glass filled with red wine in her right hand toppled over onto the sofa. We both just laughed and left it, knowing that would always be a reminder of that night. The alcohol numbs all those pangs of grief from taking over completely.

6/3/2012 at 9:38pm. That was the date and time I had the hospital ring my mobile. I was in the shower so it went to voicemail, but I kept that message and I still listen to it every day. They explained there'd been a car accident and my wife was in surgery. It was twelve minutes and thirty four seconds for me to get to the hospital. I was left in the waiting for three hours whilst she was being operated on and in those hours I didn't have any news. At 12:50am she was out of surgery... But there was no good news. Two surgeons came to see me. They explained that a truck had gone through a red light and hit the drivers side of her car. He had been drinking... They told me she had many injuries; the most severe being a bleed in her brain. They'd tried their best but in the end all they could do was put her on life support. They reassured me they would call he family, I just had to give all their numbers.

She was in the ICU. I'll never forget the way she looked laying there. There must have been eighty three tubes connecting to her, including the ventilator keeping her alive. There was a bandage covering her head; where I could only assume they'd shaved her hair off. Her bottom lip was split and her left eye was black and blue, her usually rosy cheeks were pale and there was one spot of blood on her neck. Her body was covered by the plain white hospital blanket, yet I could still see the bulges where her right leg and arm were; indicating they were casts. I didn't think the ventilator done anything, she didn't look alive to me, she looked dead.

I sat beside her and held onto her left hand; which wasn't covered in plaster. I wanted more than anything for her to open her eyes and stare at me with those piercing blue eyes, I wanted her so badly to laugh at me and call me a dork for worrying so much. I needed to see her smile again, I needed her run her fingers through my hair like she'd do whenever I was stressed. I needed her to come back to me so I could appreciate all of those small things she'd do.

We turned off her life support on 7/3/2013 at 10:46pm. I didn't leave her side once, not even when her family and friends came to say goodbye; her hand constantly remained in mine. And when her heart machine flat lined at 10:50pm, I felt my entire world crumble into nothing.

**COPYWRITE KIMBERLEY QUINN - -FUENTES 2014**


End file.
